


The Piroshki Means I Love You

by Amatyultare256



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (i love that that's a real AO3 tag), Episode 11 fix-it (sorta), Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, piroshki-centric fake Russian folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amatyultare256/pseuds/Amatyultare256
Summary: It's the morning before the Grand Prix Final Free Skate. Yuuri is frazzled. Yurio is annoyed. His grandfather has a story about piroshki and love.





	

Yurio gets to the rink with his grandpa early. In fact, he half-expects he’ll have to hammer on the door to be let in. Luckily, the facility is already open. But he’s still smugly certain that he’ll have the ice to himself for a while. He wants to show Grandpa the new jump combination he’s been practicing, and –- 

It’s a rude surprise to see the pig, Yuuri, already on the ice and skating in aimless circles. Yurio makes a disgusted noise at the sight. His grandpa chuckles.

“That’s the Japanese Yuuri, hmm? The one who introduced you to pork cutlet bowls.” And before Yurio can stop him, Grandpa calls out, “Good morning!”

Yuuri, seeming to notice them for the first time, raises a hand in greeting and skates towards them. Yurio groans and Grandpa chuckles again.

As Yuuri gets closer, Yurio realizes that the man looks awful. There are deep smudges under his eyes; he looks frazzled, like he hasn’t slept at all.

“Hello Yurio. Hello, um, Yurio’s grandpa, right?” Yuuri says politely as he reaches the edge of the rink. Yurio grunts and rolls his eyes as his grandpa immediately strikes up a conversation. 

Yurio pushes himself away from the pair and skates a wide circle around the rink, stealing occasional glimpses back as he goes. Grandpa is good at setting people at ease when he wants to be. Yuuri looks, not happy exactly, but a little less tense. And he’s talking more, leaning forward into the conversation.

Yuuri’s still talking as Yurio curves back around towards them, in fact. “…and I finally realized what I needed to do. Last night I told Victor that we should end it after the GPF, that I didn’t want to hold him back and he should return to Russia and start skating competitively again.” Yurio almost trips over his own skates. “And he just. He was quiet for so long, and then he smiled and said okay, but I can _tell_ he’s angry at me and I don’t know _why!_ ”

“You did _WHAT?_ ” Yurio demands.

Yuuri jumps. “Oh. Um. Yurio. I didn’t see you there. Er.”

Yurio is so furious he's not sure where to begin. First of all, Victor Nikiforov is _over_ as a figure skater. Second, Yurio is the new star of Russian skating. Hadn’t he proved it yesterday? Third, Yuuri and Victor are a perfectly matched pair of idiots. The entire world knows this! The video of their tackle-kiss at the Cup of China has, like, 700 million views on YouTube. Fourth, these dumbasses –

“You know something?” Grandpa’s voice interrupts Yurio’s angry mental enumeration. “Your story reminds me of an old Russian folk tale.” 

Yuuri turns towards the older man obligingly. Yurio, still scowling, skates forward to lean against one of the boards. He’s still angry at the idiocy this pig has spouted, but Grandpa’s stories are the best. 

The tale that Grandpa recounts is about a young baker who wants to make the perfect piroshki. Unfortunately, the ugly-looking buns he creates never satisfy him. Every day a beggar comes to the door of his house, asking if he might have some of the piroshki. But the baker refuses to let anyone – even a beggar – eat something so flawed. So the beggar goes away hungry. And the baker, tears in his eyes, throws his terrible piroshki into the snow behind his house for the scavengers.

“One day,” Grandpa says, raising a finger for emphasis, “the baker finally made a batch of piroshki that he was happy with. They were not perfect! But he felt he could allow others to eat them. But – “ he pauses dramatically, “the beggar did not come to the house that day.” He falls silent for a moment.

Yuuri leans forward. “What happened?”

Grandpa shakes his head. “The baker waited and waited, and then went out into the winter afternoon to look for the beggar. He found his body in the snow as the sun slipped below the horizon.”

Yuuri actually gasps. “He _died?_ ” (Yurio smirks. Grandpa is the best at telling stories.)

Grandpa nods sadly. “The baker returned to his house and tried to eat the piroshki for his own dinner. Tears streamed down his face and he was not able to force down a single bite. Finally, he gave up and went outside to throw them away. However!”

Yuuri seems to be hardly breathing, hands clenched as he waits to hear what happens next.

"The baker was stunned to find many of the village’s children waiting for him. They even cheered when he appeared! ‘Thank you so much,’ they told him. ‘We’re so glad you leave these piroshki out for us every day. They’re the best piroshki we’ve ever had!’ And the children proceeded to eat every bite.”

Yurio is expecting a moral to wrap up the story, but Grandpa falls silent once again, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as if waiting for something.

“B-but,” Yuuri starts. Yurio looks at him, mildly disgusted – are those tears in his eyes? Ugh, this man is such a pathetic crybaby. “What if the baker’s piroshki really _hadn’t_ been good? What if he was right and they were awful? Or even – maybe even poisoned?” His voice wobbles. 

“But they weren’t,” Grandpa replies, his voice kind. “They were fine all along, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri rubs his eyes roughly with the back of his hand and blinks hard. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I –“ he takes a deep breath and clambers off the ice all at once. “I should go talk to him. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Grandpa replies, his eyes creasing as he smiles. “Good luck! And good luck tonight as well.”

Yuuri is halfway to the locker room, practically running, when he checks himself. He turns and calls out, “Your katsudon piroshki were delicious!”

“I’m glad to hear it! I’ll bring you some more tonight!” Grandpa calls back.

“GRANDPA!” Yurio folds his arms, outraged.

Grandpa just laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you some too.”

“That’s not the point!” Yurio sulks.

Grandpa’s eyes soften, and he pats Yurio’s head. It should be annoying – Grandpa treating him like a little kid – but he’s warmed by it somehow. 

“Oh, Yuratchka. Isn’t it? Don’t worry, there’s always plenty for you.”

Yurio gives a long-suffering sigh but smiles. “Okay, enough talk about food," he declares. "It’s time to focus on skating.”

Grandpa nods and leans forward obligingly as Yurio lets go of his exasperation, gliding out into the center of the ice. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this piece is a reference to the classic Captain Awkward column advice **[The Sandwich Means "I Love You"](https://captainawkward.com/2012/02/13/190-the-sandwich-means-i-love-you-a-valentine/)**. 
> 
> I fully admit that this story is RIDICULOUS. I planned to write a more serious, romantic post-episode-11 fic about Yuuri and Victor using their words like adults. But I got two paragraphs into it and my mind went, "right, but have you considered: over-elaborate food allegories?" And this...happened.
> 
> It's only lightly edited; if i sit on this story for too long, I honestly think I might get too embarrassed about how silly it is and delete it. So, uh. Sorry, YOI fandom!


End file.
